Sirens wailed. Backup was close now.
Jes zip-tied both attackers—the pilot had crawled partially out of his suit, dazed and bleeding from a broken nose. The forgettable man was starting to stir, but the zip-ties held.
"So," Dante said, hands back in his pockets.
"Corvette. Thoughts?"
Jes looked at him. This impossible, nonchalant speedster. Who couldn't stay still if the world was on the line.
"Get it in blue," she said. "Red's too obvious."
He grinned. "I was thinking red."
"Of course you were."
"But blue's growing on me." He glanced at the two unconscious criminals. "Think they had a getaway driver?"
"Probably someone equally forgettable."
"We should check the bank." Jes pressed her earpiece. "Command, status on the downtown vault?"
A pause. Then: "Crew's in custody. Vault's secure. Good work, you two."
She exhaled. "Copy that."
The first police cruiser pulled up. Officers poured out, weapons drawn, shouting commands at the already-unconscious criminals.
One of them—a sergeant with more gray than black in his hair—approached cautiously. "You two with SWAT?"
"Something like that," Jes said vaguely. Para-D preferred to stay off the radar. Most people didn't know paradox users existed, much less that there was an organization tracking them.
The sergeant looked at the armored suit. The cratered street. The unconscious men.
"What the hell happened here?"
"Attempted robbery," Dante said with a shrug.
"They had some… unconventional equipment." Said Jes
"I can see that." The sergeant radioed for more units, then turned back. "We'll need statements."
"We'll coordinate with your captain," Jes said, already backing away. "Have a good night, Sergeant."
Before he could protest, they were gone—Jes walking briskly around the corner, Dante a blur that left the sergeant blinking in confusion.
"Think he bought it?" Dante asked, falling into step beside her.
"Does it matter? Command will handle the cleanup."
"Fair point."
They walked in silence for a block, leaving the chaos behind. The adrenaline was fading now, replaced by the familiar ache of a job well done. Jes's knuckles hurt. Her shoulder was sore from the grappling hook. But she was alive. They were alive. The bombs were defused.
Another day in Para-D.
"Coffee?" Dante suggested, nodding toward a small shop on the corner. The sign read Grind & Grove in cursive neon.
"You're buying." Said Jes
"Deal."agreed Dante
The coffee shop was nearly empty. End of a Sunday evening, most people were home or at dinner. Just a couple college kids hunched over laptops in the corner, a barista wiping down tables, and them.
They took a booth by the window. Jes ordered black coffee. Dante got something with way too many adjectives and probably more sugar than caffeine.
"You know," Dante said, stirring his drink, "I think that was the first time I fought someone I literally couldn't see." Said Dante
"Nothing can stop us though," replied Jes
"Yeah, but you're basically invincible."
"I'm not invincible. I just can't be hurt." Said Jes
"That's the same thing."
"It's really not." She took a sip of her coffee. Too hot. She waited. "Invincible means nothing can hurt you. I can still be restrained, trapped, suffocated. I just don't take damage."
"Semantics." replied Dante
"Important semantics."
He grinned. "You're fun when you're pedantic." Tease Dante.
"I'm not pedantic, I'm precise." Said Jes
"Also semantics." grin Dante
She threw a sugar packet at him. He caught it without looking.
"Show-off."said Jes
"Guilty."Dante replied as he slowly turn his head to look back at her.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Outside, the city continued its Sunday evening routine. Cars passed. People walked dogs. Somewhere, a siren wailed—probably heading to their crime scene.
"You ever think about it?" Dante asked suddenly.
"Think about what?" Asked a confused Jes
"What we do. The paradoxes. The secrets." He gestured vaguely. "Most people don't even know we exist. They see weird stuff happen and they rationalize it. Gas leak. Mass hallucination. Terrorist attack." He said the last words with air quotes.
"That's the point," Jes said. "Para-D keeps things quiet. If people knew paradox users existed—"
"Chaos. Panic. Witch hunts. I know." He took a sip of his overly-sweet monstrosity. "Still weird though. We just saved a city block and nobody will ever know it was us." Whispered Dante
"You want recognition?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know." He shrugged. "Just feels strange sometimes. Being a ghost in our own story." Dante said as his eyes look around.
Jes understood. She'd felt it too. The disconnect between what they did and what people saw. To the world, they were just… unremarkable. Another face in the crowd.
Ironic, considering they'd just fought someone who weaponized that exact concept.
"We know," she said finally. "That's enough."
Dante smiled. "Yeah. I guess it is."
The barista approached—a young woman, maybe early twenties, with tired eyes and a forced customer-service smile. "Can I get you two anything else?"
"We're good," Jes said.
The woman nodded, pulled out a small notepad. "Whenever you're ready, then." She set the check on the table and walked away.
Jes reached for her wallet, then paused.
Something was wrong.
She looked around the coffee shop. The college kids were still there, typing away. The barista was behind the counter, restocking cups. Everything was normal.
Except…
Why were they here again?
She blinked. They'd been… doing something. Something important. There'd been—
Bombs. Right. They'd defused bombs. And then…
Her eyes drifted to the window. Across the street, two men walked casually toward a parked sedan. They carried duffel bags—heavy ones, judging by how they moved. The men wore unremarkable clothes. Forgettable faces.
One of them looked back.
And smiled.
Jes's hand shot to her sidearm—
But they were already in the car. Doors closed. Engine started.
The sedan pulled away from the curb, merged into traffic, and disappeared around the corner.
Gone.
"Dante," she said urgently. "Did you see—"
She looked at her partner.
He was staring at his coffee, confused. "Wait. Why are we here? Weren't we just…" Jes holing her head trying to recollect he thoughts
The barista walked past, muttering to herself. "Why did I even come over here? They didn't call for me…" She shook her head, returning to the counter.
Jes felt it then. The subtle wrongness. The way details seemed to slip away if you didn't focus. The forgettable man—he'd been unconscious, zip-tied, in police custody.
Except he hadn't been.
Paradox suppressors, she thought frantically. We didn't put a paradox suppressor on him.
Of course they hadn't. Because by the time the police arrived, they'd already forgotten why it was necessary. Forgotten he was special. He was just another unconscious criminal in a sea of unremarkable details.
And the moment nobody was paying attention—
He walked away.
The duffel bags. The bank. They hadn't caught the whole crew.
They'd caught the distraction.
"Jes?" Dante was looking at her now, concern cutting through his usual nonchalance. "You okay?"
She wanted to chase them. Wanted to run out into the street, track the sedan, bring them in.
But they were already gone. And even if she found them, would she remember why she was looking? Would anyone?
The Interesting Number Paradox.
You couldn't catch what you couldn't remember.
"Yeah," she said finally, sitting back in the booth. "I'm fine."
She wasn't fine.
But there was nothing they could do. Not now. Not without a plan. Not without paradox suppressors and a team that understood what they were dealing with.
Dante was still watching her, that unnaturally sharp perception cutting through her attempt to deflect.
"We'll get him," he said quietly. "Next time." As he holds her hand
"Next time," she echoed.
Outside, the city moved on. Oblivious. Unseeing.
And somewhere in that crowd of forgettable faces, a man with duffel bags full of money smiled.
Because he'd already won.
They just couldn't remember it.